He Keeps Popping Up
by Union Jack Off
Summary: Alfred is the hot shot rookie football star on the campus of his exclusive boarding school, and Arthur is the new boy who happens to catch his interest by arguing with him. In which the Bad Touch Trio are Alfred's best friends, and Arthur is a teacher's pets. Will include: awkward locker room scenes, some poorly written smut, and quite a bit of cussing. USUKUS


**A/N: So, I haven't exactly posted anything in a while, and I figured I would give this a go. It's s chapter of a story that I wrote a while ago, and I never had the motivation, really, to write the chapters I had already planned out. So, I will submit this to you kind people who read this, and if it generates enough interest, I will write the planned second chapter. So... Yeah. Please review and tell me if you want me to continue the story; honestly, that would make my day. **

_**Story: The English Boy Next Door **_

_**Word Count: 1,396**_

_**Rating: M**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, that would be Himaruya Hidakez. **_

Alfred dropped into his seat in the back left corner of the class, red tie loose around his neck, uniform jacket unbuttoned and sloppy. Star athlete at his prestigious boarding school, he generally got away with slacking when it came to the strict dress code. He pulled out his single notebook, which already had a variety of doodles on the cover. He started adding to them.

This was his second year at Beezlebub's Boarding School for Boys, which meant he was a sophomore and no longer the idiot freshman he'd been the year before (a.k.a three months ago). The majority of the student body (and it was assumed of the teachers most of the time, as well) was bisexual or gay; then, it was practically encouraged by such a close proximity with each other on a day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute basis. Alfred, for the most part, hadn't found anyone that suited him well enough yet. Most people were put off by his attitude towards schoolwork, and his grades. He was a brilliant kid, really, but only when he chose to be. He didn't go home for breaks, either, because he knew he'd be yelled at, and berated for his poor GPA. He never had his uniform on completely, according to the dress code and a couple of detentions, but hardly anyone had challenged him about it after the first couple of weeks before football season had started. They wouldn't have a winning swim, football, or science team without him.

He glanced up as other sophomores started trickling in. His friends from last year surprisingly hadn't been expelled for all of their pranking and "inappropriate sexual conduct". Gilbert happened to be the one who slipped into the desk next to him. Antonio, and then Francis took the seats slightly farther away from Alfred, leaving the single corner seat open at the end of the row for Francis's yearly victim.

The students were all chattering about their summer breaks and catching up with their friends; it was at his point, that someone Alfred didn't recognize waltzed in. Not literally, but that was the only way Alfred could think to describe the way the boy held himself. He had an almost regal air about him as he took his unlucky choice of a seat next to Francis.

His uniform was crisp, cuffs buttoned, collar starched, tie knotted severely near the sandy blond's throat. All of his buttons were securely buttoned, and his light blue dress shirt was tucked in. He looked like a teacher's pet, and apparently acted like one too. He pulled an apple out of his bag and took it to the teacher at the front of the room. Classic rich boy. Francis immediately stopped his conversation with Antonio when the boy sat back down. "Ohonhonhon," he heard the French exchange student laugh his odd laugh. "Who iz zis- a new student?" He nudges Toni across the aisle, who grinned.

"Si, mi amigo," he agreed obliviously, not collecting the fact that it wasn't an actual question.

Gilbert kesesesed, glancing down the row at the new student, when he heard the other boys referring to him. Alfred followed his lead, minus th odd noises. Beyond appearing extremely uptight, and stiff, the guy was okay looking.

He had blond hair, that was sticking up everywhere, and although it seemed like he'd tried to tame it, he'd only made himself look ever so slightly debauched. It looked like he'd just returned from a make out session. Beneath his hair was a set of rather large eyebrows. It seemed as though fuzzy brown caterpillars had taken up permanent residence above startlingly deep green eyes. His pale lips were settled in what seemed to be a forever fixed scowl. He pulled one notebook out of his backpack of many, labeled Honors English. Alfred though he looked like a challenge, which most students at this school didn't provide for him.

"_Mon chou_," he heard Francis coo, laying it on thick. A lot of people liked his accent, so he had unusually good luck in finding bed mates. "Would you mind if I took a walk and got lost in those _magnifique _eyes of yours?"

"Sod off, arse!" He hadn't even spared a glance at Francis. Woah. He was British, and from the sounds of it, he had a swearing problem.

Francis pouted at the rejection, but still, Alfred watched as he kept trying. "Could I at least get the British gentleman's name? I like to know the name of the person I'm pleasuring," he said with a seductive smile.

"Arthur Kirkland, and if anything, you'll be crying out my name in agony from getting your fingers broken if you so much as think about touching me," the Englishman said to the hand that had started moving across the aisle between the two.

Francis frowned, shooting a confused look at the other three. Antonio gave him a work that said' don't worry, I've got this', and tried a more direct approach as the late bell rang. He went behind Arthur, flinging his arms around his shoulders and putting their heads close together. Not matter who it was, he just didn't seem to understand the idea of personal space. He'd done the same thing to Alfred when they'd first met, as had Francis, and Gilbert hadn't seemed all that interested in flirting with him; instead, the self-proclaimed Prussian had wanted to find out if he was any good at CoD and Skyrim.

"Hola, mi amigo!" He exclaimed happily in the Brit's ear.

Alfred watched Arthur's head turn slowly to face the touchy-feely Spaniard. Their noses almost touched, and Alfred refused to believe that a pang of jealousy shot through him. Slowly, as if Toni wouldn't understand his own language, Arthur said, "Mi no comprende espanol.", with the worst accent Alfred had ever heard. He had to keep himself from laughing.

Antonio pucker his lips in a pout, mere millimeters from kissing the Briton that had just insulted him. He backed off, slightly creeped out by the glare that followed him all the way back to his seat. He shrugged innocently at Gilbert, who was about to have a go at the easily annoyed Brit, when the bell rang. The albino frowned, sitting back down as the teacher reentered the class from holding the door.

"Good morning, class!" The peppy brunette woman said cheerfully, starting to write on the board. "Today, we will be discussing your summer reading, The Yearling," she continued as she underlined the title on the board. The new student, Arthur, raised his hand. "Yes, uh..." She'd forgotten to call attendance, making it quite obvious that she was fresh out of college and new. She glanced at the list. "Francis?" She guessed.

"Non, madame," Francis answered to his name. "I am Francis. This is Arthur, the almighty."

The teacher frowned, marking them both present. "Yes. Arthur."

"I think that _shouldn't have kept the fawn as a pet to begin with. It's cruel to try to domesticate a wild animal like that."

Alfred frowned at that, raising his own hand.

"Yes, um...?"

"Alfred," he told the teacher kindly. "Are you saying, _Arthur_, that _ should have left the foal to die? Surely it would have, without the proper care from its mother." He was a defender of the animals, aspiring to be a veterinarian.

"No, _Alfred_, although that would be that natural course of events, that's not the point I'm trying to make. I'm saying that he should've kept to himself. He wouldn't be directly responsible for its death." Arthur glared, and all eyes were on Alfred, awaiting his response patiently.

"But he _would_ have been responsible," he argued, staring back at Arthur with just as much conviction." He knew the little guy would die. He wasn't _that_ ignorant, or he wouldn't have saved it."

"No, Mother Nature would have killed it, not him. Therefore, he wouldn't be responsible for its death."

"No, he would! He'd be-"

"Enough!" Their teacher declared, looked slightly harried, especially since it was only the first day.

Alfred sighed, complying. He cast a last annoyed glance at Arthur.

This was going to be a long year.

**A/N: So there it is, my short little piece of work. Remember to review if you want to see it continued. I think that after a couple of positive reviews I'll start finishing the second chapter. Motivate me? The USUK will develop, I promise. ~Al**


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